And Life Goes On
by ForeverHate
Summary: Hibari Kyouya did have someone he cared for. His mother. One Shot.


The dark haired teenager stalked along the street, cutting a path of terror through all the other unfortunate pedestrians who got in his way. Hibari Kyouya, the new head of Namimori's disciplinary committee had only been elected that morning, but was already making a name for himself as number one "most feared teen". Eventually he turned and walked up a path towards a traditional-Japanese-style mansion, unlocked the door and entered. Slipping off his shoes, he called out in a surprisingly gentle voice, "I'm home". He slid open the third door on the right at the end of the corridor and was greeted by the sight of a black haired woman with a serene expression, sitting up in bed, reading a book. When she saw him her blue eyes lit up and the entire room seemed to radiate.

"Kyo-kun, you're home." Hibari came and kneeled by her side.

"How are you feeling, mother?" she smiled, taking his hand, hers unnaturally pale, even against his white skin.

"Fine, fine. Much better now I can see you." His lips twitched upwards.

"I have some news."

"Oh?"

"I was chosen as the president of the disciplinary committee." Her eyes, once again, brightened and her entire face glowed with pride for her only son.

"Oh! Oh, Kyouya! Oh, I'm so proud of you!" She pulled him into a tight embrace and kissed his forehead while he positively beamed. It was a strange sight to see, the cold and cruel boy with a genuine smile on his usually blank face, accepting such a sign of affection. Eventually his mother pulled back, still shining with pleasure. "I know you'll do a brilliant job of defending Namimori's morals." Hibari sat there, glowing from the compliments his mother had given him, then saw how pale she looked.

"Are you hungry?" he asked her. She smiled again, but there was a hint of sadness in it.

"Oh, only a little bit."

"I'll make something for you then.

"I just wish that I was well enough to cook for you as well. You take such good care of me." He sat in solemn silence, all hints of joviality gone. But then a tight, dry smile pulled at his lips.

"But you'd only burn it."

"You cheeky boy!" She said, laughing softly and playfully tapping him on the nose. "But I guess it's true."

And life went on.

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Opening his front door Hibari was currently unaware that anything was amiss. Nothing felt any different to any other day. He placed his black school shoes on the shoe rack and walked to his mother's room. Still nothing. He pulled the door back. He froze. His mother was lying on the floor, blood running down the side of her mouth as she struggled for a few rasping breaths.

"MOTHER!!!!" He flung himself by her side and grabbed her hand which was a sickly, grey colour. Her blurred eyes slowly focused on him.

"Kyo- Kyouya…." A tear slowly ran down her cheek. He'd never thought it possible he'd ever see her in such a bad way.

"It's okay…" Although he knew perfectly well it was anything but. "You're not alone. I'm here" he felt his voice crack, but his eyes stayed dry. A small smile raised her lips, and for a moment she resembled the beautiful woman she had once been.

"Kyo…. Love… You…." Then her eyes seemed lifeless. Fumbling in his jacket, he snatched his mobile, nearly dropped it, then dialled the hospital.

"This is Hibari Kyouya. Ambulance. My house. Now." The phone line went dead on the other end and he knew they were on their way.

Less than fifteen minutes later the paramedics were rushing through the house, bustling about, putting his mother on a stretcher, telling him she'd be fine. He climbed into the ambulance next to her, feeling slightly dazed. Like everything was just a bad dream and he'd wake up any minute now. Then suddenly they were at the hospital and she was being pulled away from him to the bright operating theatre doors. Then he found himself sitting in reception, twirling his mobile between his fingers. Then he was pacing along a corridor with black vending machines lining a wall like guests at a funeral. Time was going by at an odd pace, it was neither fast, nor slow, nor a natural speed. Everything just skipped. Then a doctor was walking towards him, shaking his head. He didn't hear what he said. He didn't need to. The expressions of pity the stupid herbivores were giving him were enough to tell him that the worst had come to pass. And finally he in the theatre with the shell that had once been his mother, her eyes shut and her expression oddly tranquil. He took a cold hand in his, staring and the doctors left the theatre to give him some peace. He was alone.

"Mother." The only thing that answered him was the silence of the clean, white room. He then found himself talking to her, even while knowing she wouldn't answer. He told her how his day had been. He told her what he'd make for dinner. He told her his plans for the future. He spilled his heart out to the empty room until his throat was raw from so much talking. Strangely enough he didn't feel foolish and he didn't question his bizarre actions. Only when he'd finished did it hit him that she'd never be at home, sitting in bed, waiting for him to come home. She'd never see him grow up. She'd never see him again. He let go of the motionless hand, kissed the side of his mother's face and then turned his back on the corpse and left. Nobody tried to stop him. They just got on with whatever they had to do. Saving what seemed like every life except from hers. And life went on.

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Over the next few weeks Hibari had a large number of guests at his house. Solicitors, social workers, people connected to the upcoming funeral and just general well-wishers. He kept control of the house and money –simply because he threatened to bite anyone who suggested otherwise to death- and chased the distant relations off the premises, wanting to be left alone. He spent days at a time alone in the mansion, wandering the corridors or reading. He hadn't returned to his mother's room since the day she'd passed away. The only times he left was to go to school. As if he'd ever miss that.

The only student who maybe noticed a change was vice-president Kusekabe, but they never spoke about it. Everyone else stayed just as scared of the boy, trying to keep as far away from him as possible. And life went on.

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The funeral. He found it strange. On such an occasion he would have thought that it would have been raining. Pounding sheets of rain, pouring out of the sky like the tears he had yet to shed. Hibari found himself sitting in the front row of a small church with about five or so other people around him, all avoiding him. He stared at the modestly attractive coffin, white lilies scattered over it, soft piano music playing in the background. He vaguely heard the priest talking. Words such as "Loving", "compassionate", and "patriotic" reached his ears. None of these words could sum up even a part of what had been his mother. The ceremony went by quickly and simply and all too soon he was standing over the freshly dug grave, watching his mother leave him for the last time. And then he was sitting by himself, sitting in front of the freshly buried grave holding one of the lilies from the church, not quite sure when it got into his hand. He stared ahead, looking at the finely carved name in the stone but not really seeing it. She was gone. Never returning. He was alone. And that was when the pain finally crashed into him like a tonfa to the chest. He gasped at the shock and clutched at his chest, his breathing speeding up and becoming uncontrolled. A half sob broke from him and yet tears still did not fall. Dry sobs. Crying is one thing, but wanting to cry and yet being unable to is a much more distressing situation. He wound up slumped before the flowers, photographs and white marble, howling in the way a wounded animal would while the sky was stained the colour of blood as the sun set on the horizon. He did not cry. And he still hasn't.

And life goes on.

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Fin.


End file.
